Legends of Fog
by kaminoko-x
Summary: And you pretend that you're walking in a cloud. /AU-ish/ one-shot/ half a conversation between a mysterious red-haired hermit and a stranger.


AN: Sort of AU, prompt: fog. Half a conversation between a mysterious red-haired hermit and a traveler.

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**Legends of Fog**

_(And you pretend that you're walking in a cloud.)_

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"Why, hello, stranger. Oh! One sorry for startling you, that I am. The fog is rather thick, and one has been told that one is very quiet. Welcome to my home. It has been a while since one last had a visitor to greet, that it has. May I ask why you chose to travel here? After all, nobody has lived here for many, many years.

"You learn kendo? How lovely. One supposes you'll want to see the famous dojo of the most renowned kendo style in Japan in the nineteenth century. Yes, that's right- Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, _'the sword that gives life'._ Nearly everyone that comes here wants to see it. It's right over there; see that house? It's still black as soot after all the years of sitting in this fog.

"Wait, traveler. One can see you are a curious sort of person. Before you visit the dojo, might one tell you the story of this place? It is quite a tale. You must know that nobody practices Kamiya Kasshin Ryu anymore. There is a reason for that, that there is, so listen closely, traveler, and learn.

"In the Meiji era of Japan, the practitioners of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu lived and learned here. The style and the city flourished, until one fateful day, when all of the students and masters of the style were mysteriously murdered down to the very last child. Nobody knows exactly who did it or why, but legend goes that the killers were careless and left one of the master's husband alive. He himself practiced a different school of kendo, one that shed blood like a river flows, whose name has been lost in the sands of time. After his wife and children were killed, he went mad and in a rage, slaughtered hundreds of the townspeople in revenge. Nobody has dared come close to this place since, and it was left to ruins.

"Did you know, traveler? They say that this place has been cursed by his hatred, that it has. As you can see, the plants have all died. See, that tree, which once grew such beautiful cherry blossoms that would cover the ground like snow, has become charred and grey like ashes. You cannot see it through the mist? One will describe it for you, then, if you do not mind. The tree's rough branches are spidery fingers in the fog, reaching for the sky and the ground and the stream bed over that way is a desert of dry, cracked ground. The fog, like a cloud that never wanders, hugs the earth in its poisonous embrace, and the shadows it creates are a perpetual night without even the light of stars or the illumination of the moon. In all my years here, one has not heard the song of birds, nor have one seen any creature come within ten feet of the mist. The houses that lie in shambles only continue to decay, and the homes that are still standing never light with the warmth of laughter. This place is a ghost town that reeks of death. Can you smell the blood, stranger?

"Are you uneasy? Is that why you're backing away and asking me all these questions? Don't worry, one is not offended. Come here, and one will answer, that I will. You want to know why one is here, when nobody should be able to survive here, so one will tell you. I am here because this is where my friends, my comrades, and my family died. It is the place I spilt blood to avenge them, because they were killed by traitors without honor. And I will not leave it, because I have made a deal with death, who cannot be cheated. Nobody has been allowed to tread upon this ground for years, and nobody will for the centuries to come.

"Hm? Yes, those are corpses. That was some scum from two weeks ago who dared to try to vandalize this place, if my memory serves correct. Oh? You can see my katana and my tanto? Yes, they are covered in blood. Why do you ask? Have you finally realized who I am?

"Foolish human; I know that the legends are still being told. I know that they say no one ever comes back alive from this place. You should have listened to them. Perhaps you would have been unhappier for it, but you would have lived to see your next birthday.

_"Pity_? You ask me for _mercy_? Then you are more of a fool than I thought, for even a child could tell you that a ghost has no compassion."

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AN: And that was the end of Bobby's life. Poor, poor Bobby.

... I'm still not used to writing Kenshin's speaking patterns, that I am not. But it was fun to write; I decided his polite/archaic/whatever speech would disappear as he came closer to killing the dude. This was originally written for a writing course I'm taking, and then I edited it a wee bit to post it.


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